


Live and Let Die

by Criminal_Minds_Queen_12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:47:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7310041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Criminal_Minds_Queen_12/pseuds/Criminal_Minds_Queen_12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While in the Ministry, Harry comes to several realizations about himself and his life. Will he turn to the Dark Lord or stay the naïve blind follower Dumbledore wants him to be? 5th year AU!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live and Let Die

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters and places are the sole property of J.K Rowling. The only thing I own is the plot and any OC characters that I come up with.

As soon as Harry plucked the orb from the row of equal-looking orbs deep within the Ministry of Magic, he just knew that he was never going to be able to forget the events that had brought him to this spot.

Although it had been Neville that had pointed out the orb's existence and the fact that it had held Harry's name on the tag, Harry had known it right from the moment that he had reached the Ministry to find no signs of battle, magical damage or even blood being spilled.

He knew it was a trap…and he had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.

Still, as Harry reached up and managed to remove the strange, smoke-filled orb from the shelves, his eyes filled with a hint of curiosity and disbelief as he realised that there was something wrong with the picture, something that he had been too blind, too devoted and too naïve to see before.

This orb that just happened to have his name on it; Harry's vision of Sirius being tormented despite all the so-called lessons that he had been put through by Snape and despite everything else that he had been made to do as a result of the blindness of the rest of the magical world. And now, right when he needed it the most, his faith in the system and in the innocent had come to him in the form of his most-loyal, each of whom were there because they believed that he shouldn't go through it alone.

However, as he looked back at them all – Neville's curious gaze, Luna's apparently-regretful, but equally-interested expression, Ginny's wary, but alert sense of battle-readiness, Hermione's disbelieving, almost-angry stare – 'that's a little strange, isn't it?' – and, finally, Ron's disbelieving, furious stare that seemed to be edged by just as much anger as Hermione – Harry also felt a little bit miffed himself.

He had tried to convince them not to come, but did that mean that he suspected that it was a trap even before they'd come to the Ministry?

Ye gods, what did it take for people to listen to a word that Harry said these days?

If it wasn't his friends, then it was the rest of the world, each of whom seemed content to slander and belittle him one moment and then, right when they were forced to see the truth for themselves, they turned into snivelling wretches that were practically begging him, "Oh please, Harry Potter, save us because we can't pull our own asses out of the fire anymore…oh please go and die so that we can sun ourselves in Ibiza…"

It was pathetic…no, it was worse than pathetic, especially when you considered that the only thing that Harry really wanted out of his life was to be a normal, happy-go-lucky teenager that could go wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted and be with whomever he chose to be with.

As he looked back to the orb in his hand, Harry allowed himself a brief smile as he wondered what he would say right now; if it wasn't for the way that they had tried so hard to hide the truth from others, Harry would have gone to him in a heartbeat and let him give Harry the kind of advice that was neither forceful nor contradictory like the rest of this backwards world.

Clutching the orb even tighter in his hand, Harry actually shed a tear as he realised just how long it had been since he'd seen him last: since he'd been safe, strong and loved in his embrace and even tasted the warm, almost-nutty-tasting tang of his lips, his tongue and his companionship.

Brushing the tear from his eye, Harry licked his lips, a part of him swearing that he would go to him when he returned to Hogwarts: to hell with waiting, to hell with hiding and to the seventh circle with keeping it a secret. They wouldn't listen to Harry because he was their leader or because he was the Boy-Who-Lived – gods above, how he hated that title – let alone because he was Just Harry, so, from then on, Harry would show them all what he was really like.

And if they didn't like it?

Well, Harry would just live and let die: he'd do what he wanted when he wanted and everyone else can just go and get screwed!

As he felt the determination rise up inside of him, Harry's eyes widened suddenly when he noticed that the swirling form of the mist seemed to be taking a shape; as he peered at the shape, a feeling of revulsion actually took hold of Harry as he realised that he knew that form.

Sybil Trelawney?

'What the fuck's this fraud doing here?' wondered Harry, but as he questioned the thought, he also heard the voice of the false teacher filling his ears and the space around him with her voice.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…and the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…for neither can live while the other survives…

The mist became still once the voice had finished speaking; however, as Harry looked at the swirling mess of bluish-greyness within the orb, his hand actually began to shake and tremble as he considered what he had just heard.

A prophecy with his name on it states that neither can live while the other survived: what?

Did that mean that either Harry or Voldemort would have to kill the other?

And, of course, because no decent mentor could give Harry the sort of teaching and experience that he needed in order to survive, it didn't take a genius to figure out that the one that would die was Harry.

So…what?

Was he meant to die just so Voldemort could be destroyed?

And what was all this crap about him having power the Dark Lord knows not?

"Harry?"

While his hand still trembled with fear and rage and questions that he just knew that no-one would answer, Harry turned to see Neville was standing next to him, his own eyes filled with a mutual sense of understanding and pain as he looked right into Harry's eyes.

"This…this can't be…this can't be real…" muttered Harry, his eyes holding back the tears that he wanted to shed as it hit him harder than a Bludger that this was the reason that he was an orphan.

This was why his family was dead and he was forced to live with magic-hating Muggles that saw him as nothing more than the shit on their shoes.

As he looked from Neville to the prophecy in his hand, Harry was then aware of a feeling of impending darkness closing in on him; moving past Neville, Harry looked into the shadows beyond the room's limits. As he did so, his eyes widened as he saw a cloaked figure walking towards him from the furthest end of the aisle, the silvery glint of a face-mask telling Harry that it was a Death Eater.

However, it was the almost-inaudible click of a cane on the tiled ground beneath their feet that told Harry which Death Eater it was; keeping himself in front of his friends, the young Gryffindor swallowed hard before, going with his apparent-naivety – as that was what they would want him to feel in coming here – he asked, "Where's Sirius?"

"You know you really should learn to tell the difference…" replied the figure, the sibilant tone of Lucius Malfoy's voice coming from beneath the mask; as he approached them, however, the man then removed his wand from his cane while he seemed to discard his mask by means of the dark magic he wielded as he went on, "Between dreams…and reality; you saw only what the Dark Lord wanted you to see…"

Harry clasped the orb tighter in his hand, his trembles almost becoming clear to anyone that could see him as he found his theories becoming reality: it was a trap and, because he was such a weak, untrained, pathetically-powered mewling quim of a child, he wasn't ready for it.

Why?

If he was the apparent Chosen One of this blasted prophecy, then why wasn't he better prepared?

What?

Did they want him to die?

"Now," continued Malfoy, directing Harry's attention back to him as he insisted, "Hand me the prophecy."

"You do anything to us, I'll break it," remarked Harry, doing all that he could to keep the rage out of his voice: it wouldn't do for him to get angry, least of all to the sort of people that didn't have anything to do with his upbringing or his lack of training.

The sound of a cold, maniacally-toned laugh cut Harry's train of thought; next to him, the young Gryffindor leader also felt Neville's body stiffen as a crazy-sounding voice exclaimed, "He knows how to play…"

From within the darkness next to Lucius, Harry's eyes widened slightly as he saw a wild-haired woman stepping forwards, her dark eyes filled with a glint of pure malice and evil that seemed to hold all of them in her glare. She wore a black dress that, in another time, would have made her look attractive were it not for the wear and tear that was shown in her eyes and her posture.

Still, it didn't stop Harry recognising her, especially after what his brave young friend had told him about this witch.

"Itty, bitty, baby…Potter," spat the witch, earning a scowl from Harry while he also felt Neville shivering with the same rages that Harry felt, though his were for completely different reasons.

"Bellatrix Lestrange?" asked Neville, the fear and rage clear in his voice.

"Neville Longbottom, is it?" asked Lestrange, her insanity and her dark radiance doing her justice as she mocked Neville, "How's Mum and Dad?"

"Better now that they're about to be avenged!" exclaimed Neville, drawing his wand.

"Neville," muttered Harry, putting an arm out to stop his friend while, across from him, Lucius did the same to Bellatrix as she went for her wand.

"Now let's everybody just…calm down, shall we?" asked Lucius, his hands raised in a manner that was almost-neutral, if not defensively-submissive in nature, his eyes never leaving Harry as he told him, "All we want is that prophecy."

"Why did Voldemort need me to come and get this?" asked Harry, keeping his friends at bay while he also challenged Lucius and Bellatrix, a part of him determined to get the answers that others wouldn't give him.

"You dare to speak his name," whispered Bellatrix, the horror and disrespect clear in her voice as she then yelled, "You filthy half-blood!"

"It's quite all right," Lucius assured her, his tone making the situation more like something that might be said over tea and cakes rather than in the middle of a potential battlefield. "He's just a curious lad, aren't you?"

Unseen by the others, Harry actually smirked, although it was a thin smirk: he suspected that he might have a reason for Lucius being as calm and apparently in control as he was trying to be. Although they didn't know it, Harry didn't think of Voldemort when he said him, but, instead, he thought of the other him.

The one whom Harry could trust to be truly neutral, even if either side managed to take them away.

Still, if it was because of him, then Harry had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to this than met the eye; he wouldn't allow Harry to be put in harm's way intentionally, least of all by his own flesh and blood…right?

As the smirk faded while the question arose, Harry heard Lucius' voice speak to him once more, "Prophecies can only be retrieved by those about whom they are made, which is lucky for you…really."

Around them, the darkness seemed to ripple, but Harry knew that it was the other Death Eaters: just like he'd been able to feel Lucius when he'd approached, he could feel them too, their darkness almost suffocating the light and life out of the members of Dumbledore's Army, although Harry kept his eyes forwards as Lucius, seemingly-advancing on Harry, continued to speak, his tone turning into one of almost-assurance and control as he addressed Harry, each word dripping with promise.

"Haven't you always wondered what was the reason for the connection between you and the Dark Lord? Why he was unable to kill you when you were just an infant. Don't you want to know the secret of your scar? All of the answers are there, Potter, in your hand. All you have to do is give it to me, I can show you everything."

The words were so enticing and their meaning so alluring that even Harry felt weak…unsure of his decisions…even vulnerable to them; once again, he looked right at the prophecy orb before, looking to his right, he saw Neville watching Lucius, though he was right by Harry's side.

"I've waited fourteen years…" whispered Harry, a part of him aware of Neville leaning in closer as he met Lucius' eyes.

"I know," replied the Malfoy Lord.

As Harry opened his mouth, he was then surprised to hear Neville tell him, "Do what you feel is right, Harry; whatever you decide, I'll be with you."

Harry turned his head, his eyes widening as he asked, "Neville?"

Giving the other boy a soft smile, Neville glared at Lucius as he explained, "Unlike you, I don't serve a false hoper of a leader; I follow him because he is strong, but you…her…this lot around us…you're just pathetic!"

"Longbottom, what are you doing?" demanded Ron, earning a slightly-curious look from Harry as he asked, "Harry, are you going to just stand there and let this Squib get us killed?"

"No," replied Harry, looking back to Lucius; as soon as he did, the young Gryffindor then lowered his wand before he added, "Everyone, lower your wands…that goes for you too, Malfoy!"

Giving a gesture to his comrades, Lucius lowered his wand while Harry followed suit; while Ron, Hermione and Ginny seemed horrified by what they were seeing, Neville and Luna also lowered their wands while, to Harry's half-surprise-half-relief, Bellatrix also lowered hers, her eyes never leaving his while Harry looked back to Lucius.

"I want your word, Malfoy," Harry told him, clutching the orb even tighter in his hand as he explained, "On what matters most to you…on who matters most to you that no-one will be hurt."

Lucius actually looked beyond shocked as he told Harry, "I think you know that I will never gamble on his life, Potter; but I give you my word on my life and magic that your…companions shall be allowed to leave unharmed, but what of you?"

"Like I said," answered Harry, his eyes once again moving to the orb as he told Lucius, "I've waited fourteen years…and only now I learn the truth, but I'm not so sure that it is the truth, so…as for me…I have something to ask of you."

"And…what is that?" asked Lucius curiously, watching as Harry met his eyes once more, the determination in the younger man's glare seemingly making his eyes shine like the Killing Curse as he gave Lucius his answer;

"I request an audience…with Lord Voldemort himself!"

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One of Live and Let Die is the sole property of DZ2.  
> This chapter was adopted from the Den of Delights.  
> Posted with permission from DZ2.  
> This story can also be found on Fanfiction.net under the username of ravensgirl52.  
> Den of Delights can be found on Fanfiction.net under the username of DZ2.


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